


Three Can Keep a Secret (If Two of Them are Dead)

by Kangarooney



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) RPF
Genre: Cole is a beautiful baby boy, Connor - Freeform, Connor-centric, Death, Drug Use, Drugs, Heartbreaking, Homelessness, No pairings - Freeform, Rape, This is, but it's all connor, detroit cold, im not crying, markus has a moment, no beta we die like men, referenced rape, there are mentions of other characters, though i did reread it like 50 times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-26 12:49:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20742476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangarooney/pseuds/Kangarooney
Summary: Connor handed the boy over. He hesitated. “Should I get Father’s gun?” He whispered to Caleb, worried.“Yes.” Caleb agreed, nodding his head quickly. “Father says his gun is for emergencies and this is an emergency, Connor!”-----The end started with a gun in the hands of a thirteen-year-old boy.-----Connor ran.He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t face mother or father with the truth of what he did. He was a bad boy.





	1. Sticky Hands and Sticky Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Drug use, paranoia, alcohol use, death, mild-referenced rape, profane language. 
> 
> Maybe pairings if you squint, but they're not the focus. I wrote this in three days and changed the plot too many times; you should see the notes on my phone. I'm so sorry. I hope you have tissues. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you like it. :)

Connor _ran_.

* * *

Mother and Father weren’t meant to be home yet.

They had told the babysitter they would be back before midnight and to make sure the boys were in bed and tucked in for their goodnight kisses. The babysitter had laughed and nodded and said not to worry. Connor had grabbed a movie off the shelf, Caleb had gone to get the secret candy stash Mother didn’t know about, while Niles toddled in a circle chasing the cats. They’d all settled in to watch Ice Age with their snacks in hand, the babysitter elsewhere in the house on the phone.

Mother and Father weren’t meant to be home yet. So, who was opening the back door?

Connor nudged Niles off his lap and padded towards the kitchen to investigate. He waved off Caleb’s shout of “I’m not pausing the movie!”

There was a _skkkrtch_ that faintly reminded Connor of when the cats wanted back in with a bird in their claws. What _was_ that?

The kitchen light was off, the only real lights in the house were in the living room from the TV and the dining room where the babysitter was doing homework. There was a little light from the kitchen door’s auto sensor. Someone was outside.

“Hey Dave.” Connor called out to the sitter.

“Yeah Connor?”

“Can you come into the kitchen for a sec’?”

There was a clutter, a book closing, then the sound of footsteps. The footsteps stuttered, stopped. Connor turned to look at the sitter – their face was white as sheet. “Is that your friend–?” Dave grabbed Connor and dragged him back into the living room.

“Turn off the tv.” He ordered, picking Niles up.

“But it’s just getting to the good part!” Caleb complained, pouting at the dark screen.

“I don’t care.” Dan said. “Go upstairs right now and hide. I must get my phone, I- shit, I left it in the dining room.” He shoved Niles into Connor’s arms. “Connor take your brothers upstairs and hide right now! Don’t come out for _anyone_.”

“O-kay.” Connor replied, feeling scared from the sitter’s words. “What’s happening?”

“There’s a bad person outside right now and I have to call the police. You need to _hide_ right now. _Run_.”

Connor hefted Niles on his hip and grabbed Caleb’s hand. Together they ran upstairs to their parents’ room. “In the closet!” Caleb crawled behind the shoe stack and held his arms out for Niles. Connor handed the boy over. He hesitated. “Should I get Father’s gun?” He whispered to Caleb, worried.

“Yes.” Caleb agreed, nodding his head quickly. “Father says his gun is for emergencies and this is an emergency, Connor!”

“Okay okay!” Connor slipped across the room to the gun locker. Father had the pistol locked away under the bed for –

_“Emergencies, Connor. If anyone tries to hurt you or Noah or Niles or Caleb or Mother, I have it for your safety. I want you _safe_.”_

– ease of access. Father showed him where the key was and how to get it out and ready. But Father did it in the light and it was _too dark_.

“Caleb I’m going to turn on a light.” He whispered a warning. The light flickered and Connor was temporarily stunned. Too bright, too bright, _too bright_.

“Connor!” Caleb yelped. “_He’ll see_.”

“I know, I know, but I have to _load it_.” Hurriedly, he shoved the bullets in and flicked the switch. Once more they were swamped in darkness.

* * *

Connor _ran_.

He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t face mother or father with the truth of what he did. He was a bad boy.

Dark shapes followed him down the street. Screams of pain from little brothers and sticky fingers pressed against hurting tummies. Hands holding darkness from seeping away. Elbows red from carpet burns, harsh and mild, so red compared to the _dark_ goo.

_Why why why why Connor why._

Crying, Caleb pushed Connor away from Niles. Sticky hands left sticky tattoos. Itchy, crumbling scabs of fear. _Why why why why Connor why._

The man pushed- grabbed- _dragging Caleb away no that’s my brother leave him _alone_! _– Away went Caleb and a _cra-ack!_ And a thump. The man came back for Connor_ no-no-no- that was my brother you killed my brother Caleb!_ Connor screamed and bit and fought and tried to get to _Niles Niles can you hear me? Niles wake up!_

The man kicked Connor _come here you little brat I’m going to get you for that_ and Connor cried and grappled the carpet. Burns scratched all along his arms, fingers bled from his grip _the gun the gun he needed to get the gun_.

Connor hurt the bad man. Connor hurt his brothers. The bad man hurt his brothers. The bad man hurt Connor.

Why Connor, why? Why did you let him kill Caleb? Why did you kill Niles? Why did you kill the bad man? It should have been _him_. He was supposed to _protect Niles and Caleb_.

He should be on the floor, bled out. He should be without breath. He should be dead.

Connor _ran_.

* * *

“Come on man.” Connor wheedled, a familiar ache pounding against his skull, shaking his bones. “I got you your cash, hand me the shit.” The itch. The itch was back. Crackling and flaking from his arms, handprints of terror tattooed on his chest. Connor _needed_ the drug to chase away the crying and the screaming.

“Alright.” The dealer held out his hand. “Let me see what you’ve got, and I’ll get your shit.”

Connor thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wad of green. He carefully laid the stack in the dealer’s hands and anxiously wrung his own. “There’s enough. I made sure.”

The dealer carefully picked through the bills, counting in an excruciatingly slow manner. Connor clenched his jaw. "Alright man. That's enough for two bags. I’m raising the prices soon so you’re gonna have to hold out or find another income real soon.”

“What?” Connor couldn’t believe it. “You raised the prices two weeks ago!”

“Yeah and the cops are rubbing really hard on our asses right about now. It’s dangerous distributing. You gotta pay me well enough for me to keep doing it.” He shrugged. “Just business man. Here’s your package, see ya around. Or not.” He tipped two fingers Connor’s way and sauntered off.

Connor shoved the packages into his pockets and scurried away. They would only last him so long – the increase in prices was not good news, Connor needed a new dealer. That was a worry for another day, he needed to go to his bench. A ten-minute walk was almost too much for Connor’s heart.

Small shadows flitted back and forth across his path. A small shape was walking parallel to his path, head tucked against the biting wind and shoulders hunched. They didn’t look Connor’s way and he didn’t look theirs. Just a bit further.

His bench cast in darkness by the burnt lamppost overhead. Connor slumped into the familiar embrace and pulled out the smaller packet. Fingers numb from the cold; he opened the pack and laid a line across his arm. The powder stuck to the blood pooling out, shaped as hands clutched tight.

Connor squeezed his eyes tight and snorted the line. He wiped a finger across the arm to gather any excess powder and placed it against his gums. The flickering shapes stopped dancing, stopped taunting and faded away. The cold melted off his hands and floated to the sky. Connor relaxed into the bench and sighed.

* * *

A small boy clutched at Connor’s jacket. Wide eyes filled with fear and tears begged him to help. Connor couldn’t. He couldn’t. He turned away from the tight grasp and tried to walk faster. Snow crunched below their pair of feet. Quick snaps from the child and long slow ones from him.

“Go away.” Connor whispered, increasing his speed. “Get off me.” The child held tight, stumbling to keep up.

Ahead, a bark of laughter prickled his skin. A snowball narrowly missed his head and splatted on the ground behind him. A pair of boys jeered loudly and danced along the road. One boy glanced at Connor’s companion and gestured. _Come here_. _Come play with us._

Connor felt the head shake hard beside him. _No. No I won’t._

“Go.” Connor pled. “Go to them, leave me.”

_Why_? _Why don’t you want me_? The other asked, gazing at him.

Connor realized they’d halted. “Go play with them. I’m not– I can’t help you.”

Laughter beckoned to the small boy. Shouts of joy, floating high above the streets as notes would in a song.

Echoes.

_No._ _I have a question. _Connor shuddered. _Why Connor, why?_ The two boys had stopped their playing, they were behind the one clutching Connor. Together they stared hard at Connor, tears glistening their faces.

A bloom of red appeared on one’s chest. Hard coughs spewing ruby specks in the snow. Sticky hands and sticky fingers _clutching their chest and crying crying why why why Connor why_. The other yelled and flailed and – _no that’s my brother he’s mine don’t take him don’t take my brother_ – disappeared.

Sticky hands clutched knotted hair. Connor hid behind his arms, crying at the screams _that’s my brother Connor why why why did you kill my brother why_. A small hand clutched his coat and tugged. _Look at me Connor_. Sticky hands and sticky fingers staining clothes. _Connor, Connor look at me._

Connor moaned and opened his eyes. The little boy’s hands were covered in blood. The stench of iron coated his every breath. _You killed them, Connor_.

“_No, _I didn’t mean_– _please no…”

_Why Connor? Why did you kill them? _We_ killed them, Connor._ The boy looked away; his shoulders hunched. _No one can know. I don’t want you to leave me _too_. Don’t kill me, Connor. I don’t want to die_.

“Oh _God_, I won’t! I swear no one will know! I won’t kill you too_, I’m sorry!_”

_Remember Connor._ The boy was fading, his grip loose and bloodied hands dry. _Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead._

Connor collapsed where he was. “I’ll remember! I will remember! No one will know, I _promise_! Please, don’t _leave me_.”

* * *

Echoes.

_Connor why_?

Whispers_._

_Leave me_.

Screams.

_No! No! That’s my brother!_

Silence.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

* * *

_ Tuesday Night Terror _

_ Last night, on Willow Ave on the Northeast side of Detroit, the quiet town of Greentown was awakened by the sound of gunshots. The Stern household was the first of several households to be broken into by a gang searching for treasures and monies. While many experienced great loss of goods, none drew close to the horrors of the Stern household. _

_ A trio of men (pictured below) broke in through the back door. None but the children and babysitter were home. The babysitter sent the children to hide upstairs while he called the police. _

_ Read more Pg 13. _

* * *

“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used–” An authoritative voice was reciting Connor’s dealer’s rights to him as he handcuffed the man.

Connor hugged his knees tight and held his breath. He had waited a few weeks before returning with the new cash ready for his next packet, only to nearly trip into the middle of a drug bust. Thank goodness he’d noticed the stakeout for what it was and not approached his dealer. Thank goodness his shadows were around. _Connor_! They’d made him twitchy and paranoid. Connor had crumpled by the dumpster to let them run their course before he approached his dealer – he hadn’t wanted the man to know how crazy he truly was.

_Come play!_ A hand grasped his and required all self-preservation Connor had not to run away. The police were still combing the area for any other druggies hiding out. As much as Connor needed to flee, the desire to hide was greater. _Why won’t you play, Connor?_ If he could hold out against the phantoms, if he could resist engaging with them then he’d be free to find another dealer. The prices might be higher with the recent busts and increased crack-downs on dealing, but he really had no choice.

_Connor look at me!_ The back of his knees itched; cold sweat created small rivulets and tickled his calves. Hold out, Connor, hold out! _Don’t make me scream, Connor._ He could feel his hands aching from the pressure he was exerting. His back, sore from the hard wall he pressed against.

His breath hitched, catching deep in his chest. He couldn’t he_ wouldn’t_. A fist slammed against his forehead, wailing rising high into the streets for all to hear - _No that’s my brother! Connor why would you kill my brother? Why why why whywhywhywhy Connor!_ He dug a fingernail into the bed of another, dwelled in the sharp pain it stimulated. Harder, he pushed to focus. Sharp and clear. Crystal intensity.

The wail faded. _Goodnight Connor_. He opened his eyes and relaxed his grip, unsurprised to see the sticky fingers. He gently placed his thumb in his mouth to clean away the spill.

Clarity.

The police were gone – much time had passed.

He staggered to his feet, muscles cramped and complaining. The crave for the drugs was waking again. He needed a new dealer – soon.

* * *

“You need to get clean, man.”

“Yeah.” Connor agreed, swiping the powder and setting a line. “You too, if we’re talking about this.”

“Ah shaddup.” The other shrugged, taking the bag back once Connor was done. “Imagine this: A nice little home, controlling doctors and nurses, keeping our intakes safe. Let them wean us off the drug until we’re happy and healthy and ready to face the world!”

“Sounds like a load of bullshit.” A skinny, sharp-angled boy murmured, snorting a line.

“I have to agree with Dan.” Connor nodded, relaxing into the couch. “Where would we get the cash, anyway? Hospitals and rehab centers – that shit’s expensive.”

“You two.” He pointed at the pair, finger wavering side-to-side. “Are so negative.”

“You get these from that new dealer, ah Cole, right?” Dan ignored him.

“Yeah, the kid’s got no clue how to sell. He’s balls to the walls cheap.”

“Done your research, have you?” Connor asked.

“Yeah. I dunno how he’s planning on selling at any even rate, to be honest. His dad is a fucking cop. I bought this shit because it was the cheapest around for miles – and it’s good too! I doubt he will be in the market for long, if you’re asking me this is him being rebellious against the Man.”

Dan scoffed. “Of course, we’re asking you, asshole. You’re in the Know.”

“Perfect.” Connor gazed at the ceiling of his friend’s apartment. “I’ll load up my wallet and get the full shipment from him until you find another steady supplier.”

* * *

Cole, the new dealer, was all soft hair and brown eyes. He looked too young to be dealing – let alone in the rough neighborhood Connor lived. The atmosphere around the young man was strange, Connor mused; so fresh and new at the scene, Cole was like a summer breeze in the dead of winter. He brightened the alley he dealt in, a slight crooked smile for his druggies. Though, Connor could see a familiar, cracked interior he saw every time he looked – _really looked_ – in a window. Broken, jagged; Cole’s smile was twisted.

Even so, Connor slunk over. “You dealin’?” He questioned, hands in pockets. Casually he leant against the wall and pulled out a cigarette. Cole obligingly lit the cigarette. At least the kid knew the lingo.

“Got a cig for me?” He replied, hand out expectantly.

“Anything for a pal.” Connor pulled out two packs. “Red or blue?”

“Blue.”

He wedged a $50 in the pack and tossed it over. “Thanks, champ.” Cole replied, pulled a cigarette out and slipped the $50 in his pocket.

“Anytime.” They both smoked in silence, listening to the rush of wind. When Connor finished his, he ground the butt against the wall and dropped it. He turned to Cole and held out his hand. “Nice hanging out with ya.”

Cole itched his shoulder and slipped him a baggy as they bumped fists. “See ya around.”

* * *

“You sure you want to do this?” Connor asked, bumping shoulders with Gregory as they stared at the house before them.

“Yeah. Let’s try it out – Mom upped my allowance last week and I’ve got loads to spend on important shit, like healthy foods and paper towels. Besides, if the whole therapy thing really sucks, I have stashes in my apartment. We can always get a boost before the next sesh.”

Gregory had convinced Connor to try rehab with him. Not for any other reason than to see if it could stick. Connor doubted it would stick, what with his little demons coming to visit at all odd hours. But Gregory said he’d pay for Connor’s next batch if he was willing to hold out for a week with him. 

* * *

Connor regretted this.

_Come play Connor! _

He fucking regretted this.

_Why Connor why?_

* * *

Connor felt like a hypocrite when he took his stash of drugs and sold them for cash – to pay for his own rehab. He didn’t want to take Greg’s money; his mother would question the sudden expense and Connor couldn’t drain his friend dry.

Rehab was fucking pricey.

But Connor and Greg self-admitted and tried, they _tried so hard_.

Greg couldn’t do it – he shook and cried at night, the pain of withdrawal leaving him in agony. He begged Connor for forgiveness and ran away. Three days later Connor saw Greg again. He flickered in the shadows and asked _why Connor why why_?

Connor wept.

The aches were debilitating – the eager boyish laughter, the wails of pain and begging _why why why why why why_ were crippling.

Connor needed to get away from the drug; he didn’t know _why why why why Connor why_.

Days passed spent following the mandatory routine, the halls filled with shadows and screamings of real others, begging for a hit, a line, something to ease the _ache_. Their cries and rebellion helped distract Connor from his demons. If he could just hold out for one more day.

Then next Connor knew, the drug money was spent, and he was back on the streets. Weeks of steady meals and comfortable beds filled his mind. He had survived _so long_ without the substance. But the silence was back, and with it a pitter patter of tiny feet and clutching hands _sticky hands with sticky fingers _held his coat.

Carefully, Connor stepped into the world and refused to look down. He needed to live. He needed to leave it behind.

_Where are you going Connor? _


	2. Cocoa and Laughter

_“Missing Person!” _The signs yelled at Connor as he walked through the streets. _“Inform local Police if you see him!”_ They pled. The face stared imploringly at Connor – he turned away. Not his problem, he had stopped drugs ages ago, what happened in that realm was not his concern, dammit.

_Hey Connor_, the boy said slipping him a baggy, _see you later_. A crooked smile tinged in sadness. A cracked interior so like Connor’s own.

“_Missing Person!”_ Another sign blared in Connor’s ears, begged for help. “_Please call with information!_”

_Thanks, champ._ The boy took a drag of the cigarette and closed his eyes.

“Anytime.” Connor whispered to the poster; eyes locked with the face pictured. The boy was less broken here, a sparkle glittered his eyes, cheeks flushed from laughter or cold or pure joy_ – _Connor liked to think all three.

He imagined.

_A day in the snow, with forts towering high and laughter dancing on the breeze. _

_ Three boys darting from cover to cover, no sides chosen, a free-for-all_.

_Calling each other’s names and bursting with happiness._

_ Going inside with cheeks nipped by frost and chattering to their parents a million thoughts._

_ Hot cocoa and marshmallows. _

Yes. Connor liked to think the boy was happy in this picture. His inside warm and full of cocoa and happy thoughts.

_“Please call!”_ The writing begged; numbers listed with points of contact. The name and description of the boy, his age.

_Thanks, champ_. The boy whispered, words tinged in sadness but eyes soft and open.

“Okay.” Connor said. He rubbed his arms. “Okay, Cole.”

* * *

Connor returned to the alley he first met Cole. He didn’t think to find much, but he knew more than the cops did. Cole sold here; Cole spent enough time here to leave his imprint. Connor could see it in the cracks of the walls, could smell it in the air.

There was no trash here. There were no roaches to scitter underfoot, or startling stains in jagged shadows. Cole was soft and new and broken. But Cole was not of Connor’s kind. They – Greg and Dan and Connor – hadn’t thought he would last, too naïve for their world.

Dan. Connor needed to find Dan. He knew he’d gone underground since Greg overdosed after rehab. But Dan was a rat and he left a trail – Connor could find him. Then from there, Connor didn’t know, but he had to keep going.

_Don’t stop running_. _Why why whywhy Connor why did you run?_ Hands clutched his coat tight.

He had to keep going. Connor didn’t look down.

* * *

Dan was easy to spot in the room. Connor knew how to find him.

In a hole-in-the-wall bar in the dirtier streets of Detroit, Connor found his old druggie buddy snorting a line off the counter. Dan looked about the same as he had three years ago. More wraithlike. His eyes were hollowed out and glassy. His bones were brittle and nearly pierced his paper-y skin.

Connor slid onto the stool beside him and gestured for a drink. He rested his chin on his fist and studied the next line Dan was setting up. “Got a light?” He asked.

Dan wobbled and turned to face him. He squinted his eyes. “Connor? Yeah, man that is you!” He slapped Connor on the shoulder. “Fuck. It’s been a fucking hot minute, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah man. How’s dealin’ going for you?” Connor replied, thinking back to what he last remembered had changed.

“Fucking-a.” Dan replied. He crouched over the counter and inhaled. “Business is booming right now. ‘pparantly the last exam at the college wiped its ass with half the student body. They’re fucking lining up right now for a hit.”

“Good. Good.” Connor couldn’t hold Dan’s self-destructive against him. He’d been there right alongside him, after all. It was almost surreal, catching up like this. If he really focused on the drugs and let himself linger, he could imagine Greg was seated in the chair beside Dan, cursing about tests. He could ignore the flicker by the lamps and the _why why Connor why_ that followed him everywhere.

“So, what’s got you hanging out with me, anyway, man?” Dan asked, rolling his shoulders and sighing at a satisfying _crick_. “I’d be happy to give you a freebie, but you’re free and I’ve seen you out there in the workforce.”

“Yeah. No.” Connor smiled sadly at Dan. “If I wasn’t worried ‘bout completely fucking myself in the ass again, I’d take you up on that. Nah.” He continued, thinking of soft brown eyes and a cracked smile. “You remember Cole?”

“The kid with the cheap shit? Yeah, I heard he up and vanished. What about him?”

Connor picked at his fingernails, wincing at the feeling of stickiness. “I- I saw something.”

Dan placed his hand on Connor’s, halted his nervousness and forced their eyes to meet. “Fuck Connor. What?”

“I saw-” He thought, eyes wound shut.

_Glass shattering. The bags falling and groceries scattering across the sidewalk. A figure passing the stoop, pushing another along “Keep your head down and keep walking.”_

_“N-no!_”_ A cracked whimper_.

_Groceries spilled and liquid leaking across the pavement. _

_Red seeping into cracks. _

_Sticky hands and sticky fingers. _

_“Do what I say.” Dark, cold steel; hands raising high and clutching_

_sticky hair and sticky hands and burning knees from_

_“O-okay-y. I-I will j-just don’t…” A wet smack. A gasp for air. A moan._

“I saw his kidnapping. I saw him get- he got- fuck Dan.” Connor buried his _sticky hands and sticky fingers_ hands in his hair and tugged. “_I saw_.”

“Okay. Okay. Shit.” Dan rubbed Connor’s arms. “Okay, fucking obviously, you can’t go to the cops. But he was just a kid and we’re just kids, Con.”

“_Yes_.” Connor agreed. “But he wasn’t one of ours. He was- he was alone Dan. _I saw him, _Dan. I saw. I can’t go to the cops, but _I know what happened._”

“Yeah Con, you and your fucking bleeding heart.” Dan smacked the table, gestured for another round. “Okay man. I know what you’re gonna say – we gotta find the brat. He sold good shit, kept us out of the ditches for months until I figured out the business. He fucking saved our asses. You resold his shit and got yourself out of this fucking hole. Yeah, we fucking owe him.” Dan shoved Connor’s glass before him and downed his own. “Drink the liquid courage. Wish you’d snort the line, but I know you better. We’ve gotta go deep to find him.”

Connor raked his nails through his hair and relaxed his posture. He downed both the glass he’d ordered, and the one Dan got him. “Okay, Dan. I was hoping you’d help.”

“Yeah. Cheers, man.”

* * *

Looking for Cole was hard, to say the least. With enough cash, Connor knew he could find just about anything talking to the right people. But Connor was low on money. He was always low on money. A few months ago, he’d scraped enough together to buy a new blanket and backpack. He paid for a postal box every month, so his job had somewhere to write in as a place of residence. Aside from that, Connor needed to eat.

But Connor couldn’t ignore Cole. He didn’t know jack shit about his old dealer other than his dad was a cop and he’d lasted longer in the business than anyone would have guessed.

Dan had cash, not that Connor was going to spend his friend’s money on this expedition. Just having Dan’s support and open ears was enough.

So, Connor couldn’t grease mouths with cash. He had another option; one he didn’t like to think about. It was an option, but it could wait. Connor could snoop first.

Connor knew what the men who- who stole Cole looked like. He couldn’t go to the cops, like Dan said _fucking obviously_. But word on the street was that Markus Manfred, son of the famous Carl Manfred, liked to hang out at the Caribou Coffee Shop with his little gang of friends. And if Connor could pay _him_ to do a small sketch then he could ask others about those two thugs.

Connor stood outside the Caribou Coffee, a pricey hipster coffee shop if there ever was one. But it was bright, warm lights danced inside. Connor couldn’t see any shadows and for a second, he thought maybe he would come back. But then he saw the coffee prices and laughed. Never mind.

Besides, the _sticky hands and sticky fingers tugging him pushing him_ flickers were inside his mind. He’d never escape.

Connor clutched his bag and scooted to the counter, ordered a small coffee and camped out by the window. He _hoped_ he could just ask and pay and run away.

He tapped his fingers along the mug and pulled out a small notebook and looked over the list of _Cole,_ as he waited.

An hour later, Connor ordered another coffee and cringed at the cost. He needed every penny for the sketch, not his cover. As he was dropping the old mug back on the counter, he turned and saw Markus, exactly as the google images Connor had found at the library showed him. Finally.

He waited until Markus settled in a booth, not too far from Connor’s own. Then, hesitatingly, Connor settled in the seat across from Markus. “Hello.” He said quietly. “I’m Connor, mind if I sit here?”

Markus glanced up from his phone and nodded, smile confused. “Yeah, sure. Can I help you?”

“I- yeah. Yes, please.” Connor placed the mug down. “I know who you are.” Markus’ smile soured slightly, a tinge of falseness coming out. “I need a sketch and I don’t know anyone who might be able to draw someone from descriptors only. I- I’m no artist.” Connor laughed bitterly.

The other glanced at the phone, typed something quickly and placed it face-up on the table. “Look, Connor was it?” Connor nodded. “I’m not in the business for random jobs right now. If you want something sketched, you can go to my website and enter the contest and maybe you’ll win.” He raised his hands. “Who knows?”

Connor couldn’t _run away run away run run run Connor run_ just give up. “No.” He said. Frowning. “I’m sorry but I really need this, and I don’t care if you’re some amazing artist I just need a person’s face sketched and I’ll pay you and get out of your hair, okay?” He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Connor scrabbled through his backpack and pulled out his lockbox. All his money was inside. He bit his lip and stared fixedly at the box. When he looked up, he saw Markus’ lips twisted crookedly and was holding the phone in the middle of a message. “Here.” He opened the box and pulled out half he owned. “I’ll give this to you. All of it. Just help me. Please.”

Markus put his phone down again, this time the screen was down. “Okay. Connor?” He pulled out a scrap of paper. “Tell me about this person.”

Connor did.

* * *

Connor settled beside Dan at the bar and pulled out the drawing. Together they looked down.

“Shit.” Dan whistled. “You found yourself a fucking tough guy. You sure you want to go after him?” Connor nodded. “Alrighty. Fucking-A.” Dan bought them each a shot. “Liquid courage.”

They tapped glasses and drank.

Fucking-A indeed.

* * *

With Dan’s contacts and the remains of Connor’s belongings, Connor bought a drug.

* * *

Connor snuck into the house. Dan had opted out of this, saying he couldn’t get mixed up in another dealer’s shit. That was okay, Connor understood. Dan interfering would be starting a turf war and as much as their friendship was absolute shit, the last Connor wanted was Dan’s ghost haunting his dreams too.

Connor didn’t need to survive this. Cole did.

* * *

Inside, Connor could hear a cacophony of noise, shouts of laughter and varied music. The air was foggy and hard to see through – only an ex-druggy could navigate through the blurred lighting and flashing sounds. The atmosphere was to increase user’s enjoyment of their drug-of-choice. Connor had visited a few houses like this himself. There’d be guards, bright-eyed and hidden beneath the smoke, ready to throw out trouble-makers or scatter at the sign of cops. There’d be users dancing and thrashing and passing out. There’d be others, testing the waters and seeing who were ripe for taking. Connor needed to pretend he was. Connor needed to be taken to Cole and then they could _run run run Connor run_ leave together.

Connor didn’t want to snort. So, Connor had brought a date-drug and slipped a little into his own drink. Enough to get loose and floppy and easy. Connor sipped and relaxed and waited.

He giggled at the lights and the dancing shadows and _why why why Connor why_ he cried at his brothers hiding in the shadows. Their eyes _so sad so lonely Connor why why why Connor_.

Gentle hands lifted him up and carried him away and Connor cried _no no that’s my brother don’t take my brother Caleb no no no you killed my brother. _

* * *

Connor cracked his eyes open to a sad smile and cracked eyes. Cole.

_Cole._

Connor rolled over and pushed himself up. Carpet ­_burns burns all down his arms_ scraped against his palms. “Cole!” He whispered and stared in wonder at the boy, _alive_ before him.

_Thanks, champ_.

“You too, huh?” Cole whispered back. Soft brown eyes. A cracked interior so familiar and oh so broken.

“For you.” Connor smiled back, broken. “For you, Cole, for you.

Cole’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Connor glanced around. They were in a back room; he knew the type. He’d wandered back into them before during a drug-induced haze with Greg. The windows were barred outside, but the metal would be rusted and easy to escape through. It was daytime, the dealers were out and the others, the _traffickers_, would be planning another party for pickings. “I’m taking you home, Cole.”

Cole frowned. “Why?” He pulled his hands to his chest and rocked back on his heels. “I- I’m- I was just your dealer, Connor. I’m nothing. I’m just- alone.” Broken glass fell from his teeth and tinkled on the ground. Jagged shadows threatened his eyes and Connor _wondered_.

A cracked interior so familiar. Broken words, cracked smiles and shattered glass.

_Crying crying boys with sticky fingers and sticky hands why why Connor why?_

_Connor running running always running_.

“I’m taking you home – you have a home and a family, and they miss you, Cole. I don’t- I don’t know who they are but everywhere I walked.” Connor sighed raggedly. “You’re everywhere, Cole. I don’t have a– You need to go home.” He smiled, teeth jagged and sharp and eyebrows just a little too high. Smiling was _wrong_ for him. Connor didn’t smile.

“Okay.” Cole said. He took Connor’s hand. “Okay Connor.”

* * *

Connor wrapped Cole in the blanket, trying to collect all the shattered pieces together. He tried to tuck Cole back together again. He- it was his blanket. His blanket so new and so old and so full of skewed memories.

Connor tucked Cole together and took him to his little bridge and together they huddled close and hid. Connor didn’t want to say goodbye. Connor wanted a friend, just for tonight. Just tonight before he said goodbye and Cole went home and Connor went.

Cole shuddered and shivered and whimpered and cried.

Connor held him and stared down his shadows and said _no no no not tonight go away go away_.

* * *

Connor leaned against the brick wall and watched Cole approach the police station “_Dad works here.” _He said. _“He’s going to be so mad._”

_“He’s going to love you and hug you and be so happy_.” Connor replied.

Cole turned, raised one hand to Connor, and stepped into the station. Connor sighed.

_Sticky hands and sticky fingers_ clutching tight holding tight, _Connor Connor Connor._ The wind sighed, pulled him away. _Run away run run runaway Connor_.

Connor didn’t want to run.

Not anymore.

* * *

Connor settled under his bridge and shivered. He had no money for food, he’d spent the last bit on Cole and Cole and Cole.

_Cole Cole Cole Cole_

Connor’s toes were numb, and his stomach ached, and he _wondered_.

He hadn’t shown for work and they’d said _no don’t come back where were you_ to go.

Dan was not answering. Shadows flickered and _hey man, how’s life_ hands clutched him tight.

Connor didn’t want to wonder anymore. Connor wanted to sleep.

_Sticky hands and sticky fingers and running running – no that’s my brother don’t kill my brother why why why connor why did you hurt my brother no no Niles! No Caleb no stop don’t hurt my brothers no no no run Connor run run away you hurt them why why why Connor why did you hurt my brother_-

_Hot cocoa and smiles and marshmallows and little boys laughing_.

_Coughing and blood speckling snow and little hands holding hurting tummies and scared eyes saying no no Connor no look out Connor don’t no that’s my brother don’t hurt my brother_

_ And Caleb looking behind Connor saying stop stop why did you hurt my brother no Connor are you okay Connor Connor Connor run away Connor run run run run _

_ And Niles coughing and crying and **Noah** scared with wide eyes peeking from around the door seeing everything open-mouth_

_ And Connor saying no no no Noah look away yelling at the man distracting him look at me look at me look at me running running _

_ Chase me chase me hurt me I hurt you I shot you hurt me not them _

_ Distracting distracting them and the **babysitter** was there – the babysitter called police and and and_

Connor stilled.

Connor slept.

* * *

_Cozy blankets and warm cocoa and four little boys playing in the snow with laughter and shouts of joy and happy parents with cocoa and happy smiles and laughter and snow and laughter. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lend me your thoughts and words of wisdom. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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